This is the debt I pay Just for one riotous day, Years of regret and grief, Sorrow without relief. Pay it I will to the end— Until the grave, my friend, Gives me a true release— Gives me the clasp of peace. Slight was the thing I bought, Small was the debt I thought, Poor was the loan at best— God! but the interest!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Labels: Paul Laurence Dunbar, Poetry as Insurgent Art [I am signaling you through the flames], The Debt